Ratatouille Male Menu -
Linguini frowned. “Remy… this is just macho ratatouille.”
Remy nodded proudly. He pointed at the kitchen’s wood-fire grill. Then he pointed at himself. Then he flexed his tiny arm. ratatouille male menu
“Ouch!” Linguini whispered. “What’s the idea?” Linguini frowned
And that, Remy knew, was the most masculine thing in the kitchen. Then he pointed at himself
He took a bite. Then another. Then he set down his fork, removed his glasses, and spoke to the empty chair across from him.
“I was wrong,” he said quietly. “Vegetables can be brave.”
Remy pointed a tiny paw at the printed specials. Then he crossed his arms and shook his head. He had seen the reservation list: twelve burly firefighters, three rugby players, and a food critic named Anton Ego who had recently declared that “vegetables are what food eats.”
